


What's in name?

by pechika



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-02
Updated: 2012-04-02
Packaged: 2017-11-10 18:56:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/469585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pechika/pseuds/pechika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal ponders about his history. Minor Spoilers for Judgement Day .</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's in name?

**Title:** What's in name?

**Characters:** Neal Caffrey  
  
 **Warnings:** None

**Spoilers:**   Mild spoilers for Judgement day 

**Word Count:** 421 

** Summary: ** **Neal ponders about his history**

** Disclaimer: **  Not mine, just borrowing them for fun. White Collar belongs to Jeff Eastin and USA Network.   


* * *

  
Its funny my life as a con artist was started by the US government. My mom and I were forced to go into the witness protection program. I must have been around 5 when it happened. My father was a crocked cop. I am really not sure on the detail my mom was always fussy on the details on why we had to go into hiding. But she did mention the Irish Mob. 

New identities were created, cover stories for our "disapperance"  


If someone asks me what is my name. I confess I don’t remember. It is ironic that my first con was government sponsored. I remember coming back from school one day – I think I was around 6 or 7. My mom helped me pack up, we had to leave town. It wasn’t safe anymore. It is incredibly difficult to close your door on an old life. Aunt Ellen my dad’s colleague was the only one who was informed about our move. We were to be “killed” in an accident. 

 I later learnt my dad had gone under cover with the mob, his cover was blown. There have been insinuation that dad had gone dirty. Somehow it was easier for me to believe it too.

Mom and I were given new identities and had to leave our old lives behind. It was quite exciting at first. I thought it was a game. Until our identities were some how compromised. I still remember the petrol bomb that was thrown at our new house. Luckily we were out then. 

Some how the moves were more frequent at first. It was emotionally very taxing. We were given new aliases, coached on new backgrounds. The standard set of documents when we moved – birth certificates, social security cards, school transcripts, employment histories. Sometimes we trained with different accents.

We played our parts with perfection – mom as a widow with a shy kid, a single mother with a troublesome son, a wife whose husband is posted overseas and the garrulous kid. We were petrified to reveal any personal details about ourselves least it comes back to haunt us. I conspicuously stayed away from school when class photograph was taken, I did not want to leave my footprint.  Friendships were superficial. We became very adept at blending it into the environment. Gradually we kept up our masks at our house too. We’re we lived seized to be a home.

By 17 I had enough I needed to branch out on my own. I dropped out of school. Mom did not react when I said I wanted to move out. She did not press for details, ask me my plans, she just shrugged and shut her bedroom door. I had become fairly adept at making fake identities, pick pocketing, making small forgeries by then, so income was hardly a problem.  Neal Caffery was born when I turned 18. Ironically a certain FBI agent made it possible for me to grow roots again. The name felt a part of my skin.


End file.
